


The Choices We Make

by NormalApplepieLife



Category: DCU, Young Justice (Cartoon)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anti-Hero, Depression, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Minor Character Death, Platonic Cuddling, Revenge, Team as Family, Thief Wally, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Unhealthy Relationships, dark Wally west, only in the first chapter don’t worry
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-13
Updated: 2019-03-26
Packaged: 2019-10-09 17:04:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,330
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17410823
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NormalApplepieLife/pseuds/NormalApplepieLife
Summary: (A pre-season one, canon divergence AU.Set when Wally is 13, a few days before he recreates flashes experiment.)All it takes is one event to change the coarse of the future.Wally used to admire The Flash. He used to want to be like him, running around and throwing the bad guys in prison. And when he found out his hero was his uncle? Ecstatic was too small of a word.But that was back when he wanted to help people, back when he believed the world was happy and that people were good at heart.That was back before he watched his parents get murdered right in front of him.Now? All Wally wanted, all he could think about, was getting revenge on his parents killer.All he wanted was to shoot him like he’d shot his parents.(Tagged as Dark Wally but NOT evil)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Warning! Gun usuage and minor character death in this chapter.

It happened on a Tuesday. 

Wally was 13. 

It was a day like any other. Wally had gone to school, gotten teased a little for being the science loner, came home, worked on a few projects, and his parents had gotten into another argument after dinner. 

He’d gone up to his room to stare at the formula again, pretending like he couldn’t hear their lowered shouting. He’d been contemplating it for weeks now and had stared at the paper long enough to have it committed to memory. He wanted to be a superhero, wanted to help his uncle and make him proud. 

Besides, it’s be nice to escape the fighting.

It hadn’t been bad, they usually weren’t, but his folks just seemed to be getting more irritated with each other lately. Wally couldn’t help but be concerned by it, even if they usually tried to hide it from him. 

And, worst of all, they were usually fighting about _him_. Oh, he knew they both loved him fiercely, it wasn’t _that_ kind of argument, but his mom thought his dad didn’t care enough and his dad thought his mom cared too much. It was exhausting to hear every single day. 

He really wished the fighting hadn’t gotten so normal.

A loud crash from downstairs startled him out of his thoughts and he hurriedly put his papers in his chemistry set before creeping down the stairs to spy on his parents. 

“Rudolph West don’t you dare walk away from me!” 

Wally winced from his hiding spot outside the door of the kitchen. His head was peaking around the corner, biting his lip at his mother’s tone. She’d been doing the dishes and had either dropped or smashed one in anger. 

A sigh. “Mary, we’ve talked about this. I don’t know what to tell you. They’re short staffed at work and we can use the extra cash. I really don’t see the problem.”

“We never get to see you anymore. I don’t get to...” Wally hated hearing how she got choked up, like she was holding back tears. “When was the last time we did something as a family? Years! We need you here, Rudy. I know you think you’re trying to take care of us, but I think it’s more than that.”

“I’m tired of repeating myself, they need me at-“

“You missed Wally’s science fair.” 

Dead silence. Wally wanted to run out and diffuse that conversation. He most hated when they argued about him. He was fine with his dad missing the fair, and the spelling bee, and the honors society awards ceremony... 

“You promised you’d be there this time. I haven’t seen him so excited in a long time. He won. Just like he got awarded for having a 4.0. I know he’s only in middle school but every moment is so important, especially at this age. You’re missing out on our son’s life and I’m tired of watching it hurt him. You need to tell me what’s really wrong. Is it me?” 

“No!” Rudolph’s eyes widened but something... shifted in them. 

Mary noticed. 

“So it _is_ me. You have to talk to me Rudy, you can’t just run away from your problems. Relationships need communication to work! You’re actively avoiding your family at work and that’s just not okay with me!

“I’m not there all the time, Mary, Jesus!”

“You come home at 8 and then pass out at 10 and you’re gone by the time I wake up! I see you for two hours every day, maybe!”

“Because we need the goddamn money, I _told you_!”

“We don’t need the extra money!”

“Because you don’t _fucking_ work!” Rudolph exploded. Their voices had been steadily climbing to a scream, forgetting to keep it down to keep their son from waking up. Wally was watching with eyes widened in fear. They were up in each other’s faces and it was like all the air had been sucked out of the room. 

“You know why I can’t work.” His mom’s voice was flat with controlled anger. Wally shivered at how unlike her it was. 

“Damn it Mar, I know you have anxiety but all you do is sit around all day. It’s why I have to work more. With only one income we don’t make that much. I really think it’s time you start looking for-“

“You. Know. Why. I. Can’t. Work.” Wally silently begged his dad to stop talking. He knew how bad the woman’s anxiety could get. He dealt with it far more than his dad ever did. She was even diagnosed as legally disabled and got a small check from the government each month. Sometimes even going grocery shopping was enough to send her into a panic attack severe enough to make her pass out. 

“But you haven’t even been seeing your doctor. Maybe if you tried again you could just get back to normal, like we used to be. Before your freaky stuff got in the way-” The man seemed to choke on his tongue, realizing what he’d just said in his frustration. 

“Freaky.” Mary breathed. “Sometimes I hate you, Rudolph West.”

It was 10:34 on a Tuesday night when Wally West watched his parents get murdered. 

It came out of nowhere. One second everything was so silent you could hear a pin drop and the next the door had been busted down and there was shouting and ice everywhere. 

Wally almost, for a second, believed that this was a nightmare. Or that Captain Cold has found out his uncle’s secret identity and just wanted to scare them a bit. This couldn’t be real... right? 

But then he heard the commotion and shouting. And group of maybe 8 men had busted through the door and were holding his parents at gunpoint.

“Get down!”

“On your knees now!”

“Please don’t hurt us, please please don’t hurt us” His mother was sobbing and screaming. 

“Wally, run!” His dad was trying to shout loud enough to reach his room upstairs. 

“Shut up, get down, get down!!”

Wally snapped out of his stupor when he saw a gun strike his mother across the face and heard her scream of terror. He stood up and started to run to them, to try to do something - _anything_ \- but before he could reach them he felt a sharp but tingling pain hit him in his legs. 

One of these guys could shoot ice... out of his hands. 

Wally shouted and crashed to the ground next to his parents. It hurt so _so_ much more than anything he’d ever experienced before. 

“Wally! No, stop, don’t hurt him! Please just take whatever you want!”

“Get _down_ on your damn _knees_.” The man snarled. 

“Okay.” Rudolph put his hands up, trying to placate the maniac. “Okay, boss. We’re getting down. Go ahead and take anything, it’s all yours. Just please don’t hurt my son.”

A cruel smirk. “Oh, we plan to. Hurry it up, boys!”

The other men were running through the house and tearing it apart, ripping cupboards open and throwing drawers on the floor.

Wally was shaking, clutching his legs which had turned purplish with frostbite where he’d been hit with ice. He couldn’t move them, every time he tried it was like a thousands white hot needles stabbing them. It reminded him of the feeling when your hand felt asleep and started to wake up, except a billion times worse. Damnit legs- just _work_! His parents needed him! He was completely useless and could barely even focus beyond the pain. 

The man slowly walked over to him and crouched down to look him in the eyes. 

The criminal was ugly. He had an ugly, puffy scar that ran across one eye and one of his front teeth was missing. He had slicked back, greasy black hair but for all that he seemed not to care about hygiene, he was well-built, with muscular arms. 

Wally couldn’t help but dub that man Scar in his mind, couldn’t help how the man’s appearance reminded him of the Lion King’s main villain. He immediately hated himself for thinking such a frivolous thing at such a dangerous moment. 

Scar hummed and smiled at the pure hate and rage he found in the kid’s eyes. 

“Don’t you dare touch my parents.”

A smirk was all he received. One that would haunt him for years. 

“We can’t find the money, boss!” 

Nobody noticed Rudolph flinch except for Wally. He saw it and it caused blaring alarm signals to go off in his head. 

...what had his dad _done_?

“Hmm, what a shame. But you knew the rules, West. One warning only. I’ll give you one more chance, just cause the kid’s so cute with his little murder eyes. Where’s my money?” 

Rudy’s eyes clicked with recognition and panic. 

Mary looked at her husband in horror, hoping he hadn’t really brought this nightmare upon their family. But desperate men did crazy things, and he’d successfully hid just how desperate their situation had gotten.. until now. 

“I-I... I don’t.” He gulped. “I don’t have it yet. Please give me more time, I thought I had more time! I promise I can get it by tomorrow.” 

The man clicked his tongue and sighed dramatically. “One warning only, West. Such a shame, truly.” 

There was the unmistakeable click up a gun being cocked and loaded and Wally felt dread like he’d never known before. 

Nonononono... _please_ no. 

“Wally, close your eyes and look away, son. It’ll be okay, just look away. I love you, we love-“

_Boom!!_

“NOOOO!” 

Wally hardly even registered the blood splattering everywhere- on his face _ohgodand_ in his _mouth_ \- when there was another deafening boom and his mom’s screams were silenced and more blood- _ohgodeverywhere_ \- and his parents both lay there. 

Dead. 

They were dead. 

Wally was screaming. He was crying. He didn’t even hear the bad man talking to his crew he just use his shaking arms to slowly crawl over to his parents- notdeadnotdead- the agonizing pain in his legs totally forgotten as he put his hands over their chest wounds, trying to stop the blood from pouring out. 

He didn’t even realize he was rambling. 

“Not dead not dead you’re gonna be okay please you’re gonna be okay I love you you’re _fine_ please-“

He barely even heard the click of a gun being loaded again over the roaring in his ears. “Truly such a shame.” 

He looked up into the dark, almost black eyes of his parents murderer. He was shaking but it was like time had stopped, like the world had ended and it was only the two of them left. 

“I’ll _kill you_.” And Wally’s young, puberty cracked voice was icy cold with promise. 

Oddly enough, the man smirked, eyes shining with a sick delight, and lowered his gun. 

“Shit, boss, we gotta go! Now! Cops ETA is 10 minutes.”

The man winked at the boy before turning his back. 

They were gone as quickly as they’d came. They’d left behind death, misery, and agony beyond comprehension. They’d left behind a broken boy, traumatized for life, left to futilely try to stop his dead parents from bleeding out. 

But that was their fatal mistake. They’d left behind a traumatized kid, yes, but one who could already feel the flames of revenge being sparked. 

And he knew. 

Nothing would ever be the same... he would never be the same. 

Wally West- flirty, fun-loving, innocent, jokester, with dreams of being his uncle’s sidekick- was dead. 

Wally West- hell bent on revenge and willing to to anything to get it- was born. 

He let out a final sob when he felt the feeling start to return to his legs, but it was too late _toolate_. If only he could have tackled the man in time, could have gotten the gun from him..-

But it was far too late for that. He shakily closed his parents eyes. “I’m so sorry. I’ll kill him, I _promise_. I’ll get revenge for you. He won’t get away with this. 

Something had changed in him. Where before there had been light and a desire to do good in the world, to find justice and run beside his uncle putting bad guys away, there was now a creeping, suffocating darkness that was taking over. It was like a flip had been switched and he wandered if he was ever going to experience happiness again. How could he? He hadn’t realized the world could really be this awful...

But now he knew. And he heard sirens distantly in the distance. A neighbor must have heard the shots...

They would take him away. Where would he go? To his grandparents? To Uncle Barry??

No. He knew the path he was going to go down and he couldn’t drag his family down it with him. They were still so righteous, so _pure_. They believed in the good in the world. They hadn’t seen their family brutally killed two feet away from them, hadn’t felt the still warm blood of those they _loved_ drip down their face, getting sticky as it dried. 

He couldn’t go to them, couldn’t live with them until he’d gotten his revenge. He wouldn’t put them through that. 

And he definitely wasn’t going to be a kid who got lost in the foster system. No way in hell. 

So he ran upstairs, on incredibly unstable legs and limping heavily, not even looking at what he threw in his backpack before running out of his house and into the night. 

He didn’t stop running until he’d made it miles away from his house. He finally stopped in a dark alleyway when his legs gave out and collapsed next to a dumpster, clutching his backpack to his chest and burying his head in it, throbbing legs forgotten. His much more prominent emotional pain drowned it out. 

He didn’t stop crying even when he’d sobbed himself to sleep. 

He dreamt of cloudy, lifeless black eyes and a scar that had been covered in blood. 

He dreamt of revenge.


	2. It’s the Little Things

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wally’s new life.

Barry Allen got the call on a Wednesday. 

It was 5 A.M. and Barry was sleeping peacefully next to his wife after a satisfying day’s work as The Flash when his phone’s pinging woke him up. 

He’d genuinely even thought of ignoring it before he sighed and blindly reached out to answer it. 

“Yeah?”

“It this a Mrs. Iris West-Allen?”

The man sat up straight, sleep shaken away with the no-nonsense tone of the stranger’s voice. He hadn’t even realized it had been his wife’s phone ringing and not his. 

“This is her husband, who is this?”

“Mr. Allen, my name is Officer Pierce with the CCPD. I regret to inform you that your brother and sister in-law, a Mr. and Mrs. Mary and Rudolph West, were murdered in their home last night. Your nephew, a Mr. Wallace West, is currently missing. Mrs. West-Allen is listed as his emergency contact.”

Barry felt his stomach drop and the phone almost slipped from his grasp in shock. Oh god. _Wally._

If he could only have one wish in this life, it would be for his nephew to always be safe and happy. To not be hurt right now or worse... dead. _Murdered._

“We’ll keep you as updated as possible, Mr. Allen. We have officers searching for your nephew and you’ll be notified as soon as he’s found. In the mean time, be on alert for any calls or suspicious activity. A ransom could be demanded or somebody may have a vendetta against your family. Their home was searched but it doesn’t appear as though anything was taken. There was clear evidence of a fourth party in the struggle. Mr. West could have gotten away and may reach out to you. Please inform us of any developments.”

“O-okay. Thank you, officer. Can I ask how they- how they died?”

There was a sad sigh of somebody who had to deliver this kind of news far too often. “They were shot, Mr. Allen. Execution style. A the moment, it appears to be gang related. I’m so sorry for your loss.”

He felt like somebody had just punched him in the stomach: queasy, pained, and short of breath. 

He looked over to see his wife peacefully sleeping, she even had a small smile on her face. Oblivious to the tragedy that had just taken place. 

He had to wake her up. He had to tell her her brother was dead and her nephew was _missing_. God, he was only 13! 

He gulped, trying to keep his own emotions down. Situation first, emotions later. He was good at keeping focused during a mission. 

“Iris, love, you have to get up.” He shook her shoulder. “Iris, it’s Wally.” 

That got her up, albeit with very sleepy eyes. “Hmm? Wally’s here?” 

“No-I- Iris, Mary and Rudolph are dead... I’m so sorry.” 

He almost cried when he saw his words make their way into her head, saw the moment she truly processed them and could only watch as he saw her heart break. 

“Is Wally okay? _Where’s Wally_??” 

“I don’t know if he’s okay. Iris, oh _God_ , I’m so sorry. The police just called. He’s missing.” 

He knew Iris wanted to break down. Knew she wanted to cry and knew this probably all felt like a dream to her. It had come out of nowhere. It had been such a normal day! He’d just seen Wally two days ago 

He’d been over for the weekend. They’d gone to the zoo, watched a few movies, and Barry had taught Wally a few complex physics concepts. 

They’d had _fun_. Wally has been so full of life, eyes shining and laughing loudly in that infectious way of his. Barry wasn’t ignorant to the little bit of hero worship in his nephew’s gaze and he couldn’t really imagine why Wally loved him so much, but he did his best to always make him feel included. They may not be blood, but they were definitely family and Barry loved him like a son. 

He couldn’t wrap his mind around Wally being lost. He couldn’t wrap his mind around what Wally had seen. He silently gasped. What had the officer said? Evidence of a fourth party? He really hoped the man hadn’t meant at the main crime scene, where the bodies were, because that meant Wally would have seen everything. 

He was just a boy. 

But Barry knew just how intelligent and clever that very boy was. He’d seen it when Wally solved a chemistry equation before _he_ did, and he was the forensic scientist! Or when he and Wally started a prank war and the kid had snuck into the room while both Barry _and_ Iris had been sleeping and successfully died his hair pink. 

The man had been far too impressed to be angry and had laughed himself silly when he saw himself in the mirror that morning.

Surely the kid would be able to figure out how to escape from the criminals... right? _Please_ let him be right. 

Iris’ bottom lip was wobbling. 

“Go. Go look for him, Flash. Don’t waste any time. Find our boy.”

And he wished he could be two places at once. Because he knew that as soon as he left Iris was going to break down in tears but, for the first time ever, someone took priority over his wife. 

Wally. 

Flash ran all over Central City that night. He ran himself ragged and searched through empty warehouses, fought and interrogated criminals, but it was all for nothing. He searched all day and way into the next night without taking a break, but one thing became abundantly clear. 

Nobody had any information on his nephew. 

And the boy himself had seemed to just disappear over night. 

 

Wally had gotten a few restless hours of sleep, getting maybe 20 minutes at a time. His legs were still stiff, but had begun to warm up enough to where he could move them without wanting to scream. He’d ditched his bloody clothes in the dumpster and changed into possibly the only pair of black clothing he owned. A large hoodie and jeans. He pulled the hood over his head to cover up his shock of red hair and kept his eyes on his feet while he quickly snuck into a gas station bathroom to wash up 

The blood had dried and he scrubbed at it furiously, making his skin red and raw. It was still under his nails but it’d have to do, for now. 

He wasn’t really sure where to go or what to do yet. He still wasn’t thinking clearly and he wanted to hunt Scar and his goons so that he could gun them down, but there were a few problems in the way. 

One, he had no idea how to shoot a gun, much less where to even find one. Two, he was homeless now. He had maybe 20 bucks in his backpack, left over from that week’s lunch money. And three, he didn’t even know the man’s identity. 

He couldn’t forget his face though. After sneaking through the city, he started dodging populated areas and stuck to shadows once word got out that Flash was on a bit of a... rampage. 

His uncle had been notified then. 

_Sorry Uncle Barry._

He wanted nothing more than a hug from his favorite person and to cry into his aunt’s arms, but he couldn’t. One day, maybe. But not yet. He had to complete his mission first, no matter how long it took. His uncle was in the justice league and they didn’t condone murder, no exceptions. 

Wally didn’t care if it took him the next 20 years. Nothing would stop him. 

He wandered around, scoping out different areas of the city. He lingered on the edge of a few homeless hotspots to listen in on conversations, where nobody cared if people bunched together to get some sleep. It was the slums of the city. 

Where previously he would’ve been nervous, now he walked straight up to people to gather information on homeless life. Some people were kind, some were rude and brushed him off, and some were just plain crazy, but eventually he’d learned what places to avoid and what places were relatively unclaimed. 

He was only chased out of one place until he found his new temporary home. It was deep in the slums of Central, back with the shady businesses and hole-in-the-wall strip clubs. Where everyone looked out for themselves and nobody cared about you. 

He found an opening in the side of a building, just big enough for him to fit through. He’d always been small and skinny for his age and it would make sure that no adults would be able to bother or rob him while he slept. Crawling through, he noted that it was the hollowed out part of a building between the dry wall and support beams and the bricks of the outer building. It was just wide enough for him to lay down and use his backpack as a pillow. 

He shivered and dug out a few things from his pack. He’d swiped his chemistry set and a picture frame of his family, the only two things of personal value that he’d kept. 

He tucked the frame into the bottom of the backpack. It was too painful to look at them yet. 

Every time he closed his eyes he could only see the bullet holes in their heads. 

Sighing, he pulled gloves over his hands and made his way back out of the hole. Looking around, he saw an old, worn, flattened cardboard box and dragged it over to cover the entrance to his new home. It would have to do for now. 

He mentally cataloged everything he needed. It was September and he knew he’d have to start gathering supplies for the winter. He had to figure out how to get food, money, blankets, and more clothes. 

Worst case scenario, he’d wait a few weeks for his case to calm down and he’d sneak into his uncle’s house while they were working to steal some of the clothes and blankets they kept for him in his bedroom there. Maybe he’d take some water too. Anything they wouldn’t notice was missing. 

He would learn the ways of the streets, for now. He’d learn how to survive and how to stay invisible. 

Then and only then would he start looking for the murderer. 

 

11 months later

Wally was a quick learner. It was why he’d done well in school and why he was a science prodigy. It was how he’d immediately learned not to participate in class too much or else risk showing the other kids just how smart he was. 

People didn’t like what was different. Especially if it made them feel bad about their own abilities. 

Wally turned 14 only 3 weeks after That Night. He’d celebrated by curling up in a ball, hugging the picture of his dead family, and sobbing his heart out. 

After that, he had made his home much more, well, homely. He’d followed through on his worse case scenario not too long after his parents... well, he watched other street kids and thanked god that he was as intelligent as he was because he’d made quick work of learning how to lock-pick. 

After a few practice attempts, he’d made his way into his aunt’s house, grabbed a few things, and gotten out as soon as possible. He’d felt guilty for all of two minutes before reminding himself that they would want him to have it. He’d taken a few blankets, a spare pillow, a few clothes (including underwear, which he quickly learned was a rare commodity in the streets), a few water bottles and an old pitcher. He used that to collect water when it rained so he was never in danger of dehydration. 

Food and money, on the other hand, was much more hard to come by. 

Again, he’d learned by example. He would sit on a crowded street, a popular place where homeless people begged for cash, and would sit there for hours with his hood hanging low over his face. And he would carefully watch. 

Once you knew how to pick them out, you could see the street kids and even adults who were quick with their fingers. He carefully observed how they would casually bump into someone and how their fingers would dart in and out of the others’ pocket in a flash. The victim never even realized their wallet was gone until it was too late. 

Wally spent a few weeks studying the technique before getting brave enough to try it himself. The first time was an utter disaster. 

He put on his best pair of jeans and a slightly less ripped hoodie to fit in with the crowd. He didn’t understand where it went wrong! He’d done the regular routine, brushed against the business man, carefully grabbed his wallet during the contact, and been on his way. But he didn’t even make it two step before the man had shouted “Thief! Stop him!” 

And he took off. 

He didn’t get far before the man tackled him. He got a hit to the face and the wallet ripped out of his grip before he kicked the man in between the legs and made his escape. He didn’t stop until he reached his hole, heart racing and cheek throbbing. 

He had sat there for a few minutes, fuming at his failure, when his eyes drifted to his chemistry set. He’d been contemplating it more frequently these days. He knew the formula, knew what chemicals to use and he had just enough supplies left to make it work... but if he messed it up then that was it. 

He’d die there, in his little hole-home, and nobody would find him for possibly years. 

But the benefits would far outweigh the risks. 

So he’d risked it all. Waited for a stormy day and gotten himself blown up; he had lied there with searing burns for a few days before he’d finally healed, thank god. He’d been genuinely scared that he might die a slow death of his own making. 

What scared him even more was that death wasn’t what he was afraid of, he was afraid that him dying meant that Scar would go free. 

Revenge meant more to him than his own life. He knew it was fucked up and he knew how unhealthy that way of thinking was, but it was far too late now. Nobody was around to save Wally West’s mind from itself. 

The second time he attempted pick-pocketing went much more smoothly. At the end of that day he was fifty dollars richer and had a full stomach for the first time in months. 

_No more dumpster diving for me!_

It had only been learned as a means for survival, as a way to get money to earn back the weight he’d severely dropped. But the rush of successfully stealing something from right under someone’s nose...? That was _quite_ the addictive feeling. 

And super speed meant that he was _always_ successful. 

He was so successful that he stole a little safe from a store to start a little savings box. At the end of every day, he would take half of what he’d swiped and put it in the box and use the rest to buy whatever supplies were needed. After a few months he had well over a thousand in there. 

It wasn’t ideal, but he was comfortable in his new life. He had a warm little home, with plenty of blankets and a backup supply of canned food, a garbage bag full of clothes so he didn’t have to wear the same ones every day and actually look like he was homeless. The less suspicion he drew, the better. 

He was making do. 

But he grew bored of stealing the same thing. Day after day, wallet after wallet. The rush of the steal had faded and it was the closest thing to happiness he’d felt since That Night. He needed to feel it again, needed the quick adrenaline high it brought. 

So, 14 years old now after 11 months on the street, he planned his first heist. 

It was the second turning point in his life and the second time everything changed, including the future. If he’d stuck to minor thieving, then he would have continued down a dark, poisonous path. He would have plotted his revenge, always sad and alone, until he finally got what he’d wanted. 

But then he would have had no purpose. No family, no friends, nothing driving him forward. Going down that path would have killed him. 

But no, he’d decided to chase what made him feel good, like any other human will do, and it was this choice to try and find happiness that changed his life’s trajectory. Again. 

Every choice we make affects the future, ours and others’. Wally’s choice saved his. 

He spent the next month planning in his free time. He still had no leads on Scar, but spent every moment when he wasn’t stealing or eating or sleeping staring at the taped up pictures of the only evidence he had so far. 

It was pathetically little and it filled him with such a strong rage that he found it hard to control. There was a picture, sketched a few days after That Night, of Scar, in painstaking detail. Wally could still, even almost a year later, recall every little detail of the vile man’s face. 

The was a word taped next to the sketch, “Viper?” With another on the opposite side that said “Loan Shark.” A few other blurry pictures of potential accomplices or informants surrounded him but he’d made frustratingly slow progress. 

Feeling that familiar hatred in his heart, he sat in his little home and made a plan.


End file.
